


Accommodation

by purplekitte



Series: Daemon Prince Guilliman AU [4]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Female Space Marines, Iron Warriors, Multi, Prostitution, Ritual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: An Iron Warriors Successor Chapter and their Slaaneshi rituals.





	

‘If it couldn’t happen to anyone, there’d be no point in having a lottery. Even the Chapter Master.’ Dargas clenched his jaw and glared, but held steady. ‘If the Chapter cannot manage without me for six years, then it has been organised wrong. I could die in battle at any time. First Captain Karsten, you have the Chapter sooner if more temporarily than expected.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She saluted sharply, keeping as much from her face as she could. She didn’t hate him, but she had no love for him either, and Dargas never treated her as anything but a subordinate to be ordered around. She was likely more popular than he was, because he didn’t care about popularity, but as long as she got the job done.

‘Chaplain Formion, I am at your disposal.’ He would need to get used to saying those words a lot.

‘Then let us speak privately, Chapter Master. While you are certainly aware of what accommodation entails in our Chapter, unlike a neophyte, there are mysteries and procedures from the other side that you have not needed to know. We will talk, you will be consecrated to Slaanesh, then your duty may begin.’

‘Dismissed, all of you.’

*

‘This duty is not supposed to be onerous,’ the Chaplain had said. ‘It is not supposed to be unpleasant or degrading. It is sacred. You are sacred, as a vessel of the Dark Prince.’

‘Take the drugs,’ he had also advised. ‘We are iron. We _can_ endure, but as one devoted to the spiritual well-being of the Chapter, I can tell you there is a difference between a pleasant task and an unpleasant chore. It is not weakness. It is a step to ensure the spirit is in the right place as the body.’

He’d taken the drugs, though it still felt like an admission of weakness. They did make everything fuzzier, make him hot and cold all over, make the way Formion kissed send sparks all through him. It took a lot to make an aphrodisiac that could affect Astartes, but they hadn’t embraced Chaos yesterday.

The drugs helped the time pass faster, and helped Dargas feel anticipation rather than dread when he heard someone approach the temple of accommodation.

He’d made use of the accommodator before, but in recent times he’d been more likely to order Karsten to his chambers, or Karsten and Bessut, captain of the Second Company. He was hardly unaware that his two captains preferred each other to him and were submitting to him only out of a sense of duty, because that was what you did. It was easiest for all of them when he left the two of them to their devices where he could watch.

Neither of them came to him now, and he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed by it. On one hand, it confirmed his belief that they didn’t want him personally. On the other hand, it helped keep his role as accommodator and his real life as Chapter Master very clear and separate.

Others came to him, though. A sergeant from the Seventh frustrated at being spurned in favour of a rival in leading an assault. A Librarian who wished to commune with She Who Thirsts. A whole squad celebrating a victory together. A young Scout, nervous and wanting to know how this was done so she wouldn’t embarrass herself with her peers.

Some touched him gently, some callously, some firm and some unsure, but even at their worst they never hurt him too much. They were still battle-brothers and -sisters, of one Chapter, not enemies. Besides, it could be you next.

They came to him: men, women, those of blended form that evoked the face of the god of pleasure. They fucked him, or he fucked them, or they made use of his mouth, his hands, his body. This was what it meant to be the accommodator, the sacred prostitute of Slaanesh: to be used for sex by anyone in the Chapter who wanted him, without all the complications of social relationships. Someone you could always go to, even if you were unloved in all the galaxy, if you didn’t want to be alone.

So he accepted them and pleased them. The man who missed his most beloved brother, dead in battle these past twenty years, and liked to have his hair stroked just so. The woman who fucked him with a strap-on until he ached, wanting someone to take her anger at the world and not call her weak or pitiful for it. The boy newly promoted to full battle-brother, still uncertain in his new body and how it felt, whose every armour interface port Dargas licked and nipped at before sucking him off.

Chaplain Formion spent time with him as often as his duties permitted and Dargas wasn’t in demand for his favours. Not for sex, but to talk. They discussed philosophy, architecture, Chapter business, if the Apothecaries should change the dose or composition of the drug cocktail Dargas injected in his veins. He was accessing his mental and emotional state, obviously, making sure he wasn’t being misused and no hatred at the role was growing in him. Sometimes the chaplain held him and slept beside him.

Dargas wasn’t about to say as much, but that was the best part, the part that made the role seem more pleasant than even prosecuting war as Chapter Master had been. That someone cared so much about him, personally, and wanted to make sure he was content. It was only his duty as a chaplain, not anything that would persist once his six year term ended, he didn’t delude himself, but it was pleasant to have.


End file.
